


A Dash of Common Sense

by Caitriona_3, GalahadsGurl, GrimmLegacy (GalahadsGurl), PackGirl (Caitriona_3)



Series: Complicated: The Epic Grimm Family Saga [39]
Category: G.I. Joe - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Mission: Impossible (Movies), Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Jeremy Renner Character Combinations, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caitriona_3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GalahadsGurl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GrimmLegacy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/PackGirl
Summary: Never let it be said that Will Grimm ignored potential when it presented itself . . . which is good news for one Dashiell Faireborn
Relationships: William Brandt & Owen Elliot
Series: Complicated: The Epic Grimm Family Saga [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1489391
Comments: 65
Kudos: 41





	1. Dash of Common Sense - Cover art

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Everyone loved the cameo in Explosion - and so did we.
> 
> Takes place in November 2005.
> 
> Sooner or later, GG & I will figure out how to get every single one of our fandoms into this universe - even if it's only a passing mention. Which this one clearly **isn't**. _*giggles*_
> 
> Enjoy!

[ ](https://imgur.com/9pbeOoj)

_“We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.”  
~Winston Churchill_


	2. A Dash of Common Sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! We're getting SOOOOO CLOSE TO BUDAPEST . . . and the culmination of a couple storylines I KNOW you're all looking forward to. _*wink wink*_ But in the meantime, we have this wonderful little one shot. Everyone seemed interested in the private who tried to stop Will, and frankly so were we, so yeah - we decided to bring him in. XD Enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you all for being amazing and wonderful and awesome and just the bestest of the bestest readers ever! You're all beyond amazing. 
> 
> No translations this chapter, so enjoy! And thank you again! We can't wait to hear what you think!

Complicated Interlude – A Dash of Common Sense

Dashiell Faireborn, better known to friends as ‘Dash’, stared at the summons in his hands, horror and dread creating a sick lump somewhere between his heart and his gut. Trying to get between Colonel Brandt and his sister – how much of an idiot did he have to be? Now this? _Fantastic . . . time to face the music and get your ass handed to you, moron._

Drawing a deep breath, he turned to face Corporal Hadley. “When would the Colonel like to see me, ma’am?”

“Immediately.” Her mouth twisted into a severe frown as she clasped her hands into the small of her back. “If you would kindly get into uniform, I will escort you to his office.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her entire demeanor remained stern and rigid as she gave him a smart nod before walking out the door to allow him to get ready for a meeting he’d have preferred to avoid. But he’d been summoned – and he’d appear . . . even though his knees wanted to knock together like wind chimes in a hurricane. His hands shook as he changed into uniform, but he managed to get them under control before stepping out of his apartment.

Now if he could keep them that way . . .

Following the corporal into the analysis department for S.H.I.E.L.D., Dash scanned the room and noted the clear curiosity gleaming in the eyes of those who watched him cross the open space. Most of the analysts didn’t bother, their eyes remaining fixed on whatever data lay in front of them. Through the light haze of panic, he could see that not one of them wore the Army uniform.

Hadley didn’t appear to be paying any attention as she marched straight up the center aisle to the closed door in the far back corner. Each brisk knock sounded like a death knell.

“Come!”

The voice, strong and stern, had Dash gulping.

“Private Faireborn for you, sir, as requested,” Hadley announced as she opened the door.

“Thank you, Hadley.” The man behind the desk might have a stoic expression but something long-suffering darkened his eyes. “You may go.”

“As you say, sir.” 

With that, Hadley closed the door . . . leaving Dash to his fate.

“Take a seat, Private,” Colonel Brandt ordered, gesturing towards the empty chair across from his desk. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

“Yes, sir,” he agreed and felt a sharp stab of anxiety as the older man grimaced.

_Already on shaky ground and I just fucking got here!_

Dash took the indicated seat, his hands folded in his lap as he waited for the officer to complete his perusal of the open file on his desk. With little to do other than wait, his eyes begin to wander. Small details could tell a lot about a person and he wanted to figure this man out – hopefully allowing him to avoid any more screw-ups. 

The man himself wore a mix of clothing, some S.H.I.E.L.D. and some more like a businessman, but on the collar of his white button-down shirt, Dash could see the small lapel pin of a matte black maple leaf – the indisputable mark of a Colonel in the United States Army.

His office held almost no adornment or decoration; it looked all but impersonal. 

Well, except for the pictures.

An official Army portrait hung on the wall directly behind Colonel Brandt’s chair. It looked like a younger version of Brandt, but Dash could pick out enough differences to know he must be looking at a relative. The man wore a sergeant’s chevrons on his uniform and seemed to stare into the room through his midnight blue eyes. Someone had affixed a small yellow ribbon in the corner of the picture – an expression of hope? Solidarity? Below the picture hung a shadowbox – it held a Purple Heart.

The entire set up spoke of sorrow and affection . . . and not something he should poke at.

So Dash turned his attention to the pictures on the desk. He felt more than a little surprise to see them at all. The Colonel didn’t strike him as the sentimental type – or the type to share it if he **were**. He recognized the people in the picture, of course, but he only knew about them through the scuttlebutt common on any base, no matter where it might be the world. 

The first picture appeared to be another formal portrait, this one of the Colonel in full uniform smiling down at a petite, laughing woman in a cardinal red gown – Lieutenant Colonel Petrovka, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s lead handlers and the Colonel’s second-in-command. Gossip painted their relationship as a good deal more than just business. And considering the visible affection between the two in the photo? Dash would bet his next paycheck on it.

Unlike the first, however, the second photo looked to be a great deal more candid and in the moment. Doctor Betty Kuhn, one of the stars of Research and Development, clung to the Colonel’s shoulders, piggyback style. Although everyone knew they considered themselves family, Dash still couldn’t figure out how the hell that worked – not with the confusing mix of last names. _Not my business!_ He refocused on the picture, one corner of his mouth twitching into a near smile. Both siblings laughed and smiled into the camera, the picture more laidback than Dash expected from a man of Brandt’s reputation.

Which might be why the photo sat on the corner of his desk, tilted away from most of the man’s visitors and only just visible from Dash’s position.

The final picture showcased the Colonel and his best friend, Sergeant Lucas Hennings. Both men wore the BDUs commonly worn by soldiers in the Sandbox. Hennings had his arm slung over the Colonel’s shoulders and both men had sly grins on their faces. Another fifteen men surrounded them, people who must have once been a part of their unit.

Now his lips did pull into a smile . . . only to freeze at the realization of the Colonel’s full attention being focused on him. And likely had been for some time. Grimacing, he sunk a little into his chair before forcing himself to sit up straight. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir’.” Cool and calculating, Brandt leaned back in his chair. “How long have you been with the Army, Faireborn?”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

Dash’s shoulders straightened at the calm reply. “Eighteen months, si . . . I mean, Colonel.”

“And where do you see your career going from here?” Brandt continued. “You intend to stay a grunt forever?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a grunt.”

“No, there isn’t,” he conceded, one corner of his lips quirking upwards. “But that doesn’t answer my question either, does it?”

As his teeth gnawed on a tender spot inside his mouth – hopefully, not visible to the man across the desk – Dash considered the question for a moment. “To be honest, I hadn’t put much thought into it,” he shrugged. “Poor family with no money for college – the Army seemed like a smart bet to gain some marketable skills while getting paid.”

That drew a chuckle. “Fair enough.” Brandt leaned forward. “All right then, let me put it this way – what do you **want** to do with the Army? What knowledge or skill set would you like to have when you leave the service?”

Sitting back a bit, finally relaxing as it didn’t seem like he’d be getting his ass chewed, Dash frowned over the question. “Due respect, Colonel, but why do you want to know?”

Those blue-gray eyes warmed a little as the man chuckled. “Private, are you aware of just how many people in this world will get between me and my family?”

Grimacing, he hedged a bit in his answer. “Not a lot, I’d figure.”

“Indeed,” he grinned, the hard lines of his face softening a bit. “As a matter of fact, I can count them on one hand. And yet, you got between me and R&D. If it hadn’t been my sister inside, you probably would have been able to stop me.” Another bit of humor entered his gaze. “I’m aware of my reputation, and I go to a helluva lot of effort in maintaining it.” His elbows came up to rest of his desk, hands clasped before him. “Excuse the euphemism, but you have balls of steel.”

Heat built in Dash’s cheeks, surprised to see the genuine appreciation in the man’s eyes. “Um . . . thank you?”

“It’s not a compliment, Faireborn,” Brandt insisted. “It’s a statement of fact and it’s a hell of a quality to squander. So again – I would like to know what you want your Army career to look like. Where do you want to go?”

Floundering at the other man’s persistence, Dash found himself blurting out a frazzled confession. “This is not how I pictured this meeting going.”

“Bet not.” Grin turning sly, the Colonel relaxed further. “Expected a dressing down, didn’t you?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“You were doing your job.” A note of finality hardened Brandt’s voice. “What kind of an asshole would I be to discipline you for doing your job? I’m many things, but I am **not** that officer.”

Dash looked down at his hands. He hadn’t lied about his family being poor or the fact that the military would be the best chance for him to learn some kind of skill without going into debt. That being said . . . he’d never really sat down and considered his options. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Understood.” Those mercurial eyes watched him for a moment. “How about a different question – what is something you enjoy?”

“Sir?” Dash asked – then winced. “Sorry. It’s . . .” 

“Protocol, yeah, I know.” The Colonel made a face. “You can call me Colonel or Brandt, but I really dislike ‘sir’.”

Some small voice murmured in the back of his mind – the Colonel didn’t behave like half of the officers Dash had ever known. A louder voice, however, took control as he wondered about the relationship between the man and his admin. “If you don’t like it, then why . . .?” His voice trailed off as he glanced towards the door.

“Does Hadley still use it?” Brandt sighed. “Because she can’t seem to . . . not use it. I’ve given up on the argument at this point. It’s not worth the never-ending headache.” He shook his head. “Faireborn – what do you like to do?”

His mouth twisted a little. “I like to read.”

“So does my XO.” Brandt leaned forward, his elbows on the desk as he laced his fingers together. “Have you considered admin?”

“I’m not really . . .” Dash paused, trying to figure out a diplomatic response. “To be honest, being stuck behind a desk sounds like torture, Colonel. No offense.”

The man burst into a full, genuine laugh, startling Dash with the rough and real sound of it. “Not far off anyway,” the Colonel agreed with a shake of his head. “Okay, so not admin. Still there are other things you can do with a love of reading. Any other hobbies or skills?”

“Puzzles?” he shrugged. 

“Was that a question or an answer?”

Dash gave a soft snort of laughter. “I like puzzles,” he assured the man.

“Reading and puzzles,” Brandt nodded. “Have you considered becoming a tactical specialist?”

“A tactical specialist?” he repeated, eyebrows knitting in consideration.

“Hmm.” Brandt turned to a filing cabinet and flipped through the files inside. It took a few minutes of perusing the labels before he selected one and opened it on his desk. “It might be a different kind of reading than you’re used to, but useful in the field.” Glancing up, he scanned Dash and then turned back to the file. “Your PT scores are in the top one percentile. You’re young . . . but it might be a fair payoff in the long run. Especially if we get you enrolled in an ROTC in the area – kill two birds with one stone . . .”

Overcome with the bizarre feeling that the man had lost himself in the file before him, Dash sat back to wait. A soft frown tugged at the very corners of his lips as he watched Colonel Brandt work. He probably hadn’t forgotten Dash sat across from him, but his attention – and commentary – seemed aimed at the file as he debated with himself over various aspects of Dash’s file.

At least Dash assumed it was his file – the comments seemed too pointed for it to be anything else.

The Colonel reached for a pad, tugging it towards himself as his other hand came up to trace a line of text in the file. His eyes flicked up only long enough to find a pen before he commenced scrawling slapdash notes across the previous blank page. Finally, he turned towards one of the desk drawers and withdrew a pamphlet, tossing it on the desk in front of Dash. “Read that,” he ordered, returning his attention to the file. “Tell me if it’s something you might be interested in.”

He didn’t seem to require an answer, so Dash said nothing, only leaned forward to take the card. “Army Ranger School?” he questioned, eyes widening a little in surprise as he glanced at the cover.

“Indeed.” Brandt made another note on the pad before closing the file. “I’m not going to bullshit you – it’s a grueling course and more than a few people wash out. But, to be honest, I think you’d be good for it.”

Curious, Dash flipped open the cover, once again biting on the inside of his lip as he considered the contents. The Colonel didn’t appear to have been exaggerating – if anything else, he seemed to have been restrained in his description. Laid before him, he found the description of a sixty-two day curriculum that looked as though it would happily chew men up and spit them back out again without a care. Frankly, it looked like nothing short of hell.

A hell Dash found himself wanting.

Finishing the pamphlet, he closed it and looked up, dark brown eyes locking onto navy blue. “When do I start?”

“Liked that, huh?”

His chin dipped in firm agreement. “Yes, Colonel.”

“Good – because that’s only one aspect of your career from this point.” Brandt handed over his notepad. “Take a look at this.”

“Airborne school,” Dash began to read aloud, feeling his eyes grow wider and wider as he went along. “Ranger school . . . Special Forces . . . Flight Warrant Officer training . . .” His voice trailed off and his heart clenched. “ **College**?”

“I’m going to push for the first four, but I’m willing to overlook the college degree if need be,” Brandt shrugged. “That being said, though, the Army’s Green to Gold program could net you a rank and a commission, so it’s nothing to sneeze at. Furthermore, after retirement, it also gives you other skills in the civilian job market.”

“Colonel, this is . . .” Dash sat back, his breath rushing out of him. He didn’t know how to describe all of his feelings but flabbergasted probably outranked all of them.

“I told you, Faireborn – you have potential.” Brandt fixed him with a stern look. “I don’t believe in allowing my soldiers to waste their potential. This is only one career path available to you, but based on your file, I believe this one would be the one of most benefit to you.”

Staring at the pad for a long minute, Dash let himself believe in the future being dangled before him. He looked up and met Brandt’s eyes. “Like I said, Colonel – when do I start?”

Visible amusement all but danced in the Colonel’s gaze. “Let me get things rolling on my end,” he noted. “Start getting ready to leave base though – you’ll need to head to Fort Benning for WOCS, Airborne and Ranger School.” 

Dash felt a rush of anxiety at the idea of having to leave Hamilton. He knew how easily he could fall into the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ mentality. “Yes, Colonel.”

“Just because you won’t be under my direct command, Faireborn, doesn’t mean I’m going to forget what I’m investing in you.” One navy eye slipped closed in a reassuring wink. “I don’t forget anything – especially not when I’m looking forward to having a skilled and trained tactician in the future.”

Warmth flooded his cheeks, but he sat there, speechless.

The Colonel reached for his intercom. “Hadley?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Is Hennings outside?”

“As per usual, sir.”

Dash had to bite back a snicker as Brandt rolled his eyes. “Send him in, Hadley, thank you.”

“As you say, sir.”

A few seconds later, the door opened and Sergeant Lucas Hennings appeared in the opening. “You called, Boss?” he asked, hands in the pockets of his windbreaker and one shoulder coming to rest against the frame. 

“Can you take Private Faireborn back to his quarters?” Brandt asked, a warm smile directed to his friend. “I’ve still got some work to do, but I think he’s worried I’m kidding.”

“You got it,” Hennings smirked. “Come on, Private – let’s get you back where you’re supposed to be.”

Nodding, Dash pushed himself up from his chair. “Thank you, Colonel,” he insisted. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Brandt assured him. He started to go back to his paperwork, but then looked back up. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes, Colonel?”

“When you get through SF training, make sure you take the call sign ‘Flint’.”

“You think I will?” he asked, a little surprised. “And why ‘Flint’?”

“You will. And as for why?” His smirk took on a teasing edge. “Look it up. You’re a smart kid – you’ll figure it out.” He waved the two men out of his office. “Go on. Enjoy the rest of your night, Flint. I’ll be in touch.”

Giving the man a brisk salute, Dash hurried after Hennings as the blond led the way out. The silence felt comfortable enough on the drive back to quarters, but he still felt like he might leap out of his skin at any moment. 

“Chill out, kid,” Hennings chuckled. “You’re going to shake the car apart.”

The statement must have been a key for Dash’s mouth as a flood of words came rushing out. “Did that just happen?” he demanded. “Seriously! Did a senior officer just hand me a future on a silver platter because I disobeyed?”

“The Boss is strange that way,” he acknowledged. “And it’s worked out well for every person who’s ever gotten up the balls to do it. Honestly – just keep your head, continue to stand up to him if you feel it’s warranted, and you’ll be an officer before you know it.”

“Holy shit,” Dash breathed, head falling against the seatback. “I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone or something.”

“Welcome to my world, kid.” Hennings swung into an empty parking spot at the barracks. “It’ll only get wilder from here.” He nodded his head towards the building. “Go on – and congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir’ either,” he smirked. “Go on – git!”

“Yes, sergeant,” Dash laughed, scrambling from the jeep and offering a quick salute.

Hennings returned it with a lazy nonchalance. “Good luck, kid,” he offered. “You’re going to need it.” 

Gunning the engine, he pulled out and drove away, leaving Dash standing alone outside of the barracks. He turned his gaze down to the pamphlet still clutched in his hand and gave up controlling the emotions swirling through his gut. Confusion battled with excitement while disbelief and joy sent lazy jabs at each other under it all. At the heart of it, however, only one thought played through his mind like a broken record.

_Holy shit - how is this my life?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're the bestest!


	3. Dash of Common Sense - Cast List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stars of "A Dash of Common Sense"

[ ](https://imgur.com/2vIjOxC)

[ ](https://imgur.com/SSnCnIY)

Jeremy Renner as William Michael Grimm (Will Brandt)

[ ](https://imgur.com/Oqxdnje)

DJ Cotrona as Dashiell "Dash" R. Faireborn

[](https://imgur.com/dYo7pFU)

Devon Sawa as Owen Matthew Elliot (Lucas Owen Hennings)

[ ](https://imgur.com/Qxr1KaG)

Noomi Rapace as Corporal Patricia Hadley


End file.
